I'm Blogging as Hard as i Can

Right. I hate it when I spend like five hours detailing my car; proceed to wash it and I go inside for a sandwich because all the work has made me peckish, and it fucking rains. Ruining the wash job I put on the car.
Remember when one had to make the punk rock belt oneself? Remember how the pyramid spikes were hard to come by and you were proud of your jacket or belt or bracelet or shoes you studded with them? Remember how all that went to shit when some shithead thought it a good idea to manufacture angst and turn rebellion into cash money? Fat girls ought not wear that belt, especially when accompanied with a t-shirt 50 sizes too small.
What in the blue hell is with the "Do Something" song by Mrs. Spears? That song is piss poor. The music from Donkey Kong was better.
I am vexed. To remedy this vexation (a not so subtle shill for my man k-luv's bog,) I simply must tell all of America how wrong they are. I once wanted to see a movie. But hadn't until last night. It came out right before I left for training and I would never would had remembered it had people not been raving about this film when I finished training. So I rent it. I didn't laugh once. This alleged comedy just wasn’t funny. Napoleon Dynamite is in fact the worst movie I have ever seen. I am sorry if you disagree, but you are wrong. It is horrible. Nothing about that movie is funny. I do not understand his popularity. Maybe I am too old to get it. But I doubt it because I am funny and I know funny and Napoleon Dynamite ain't funny. You know what is funnier? The title of the new guaranteed crapfest, "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants."
I seem to have bitched a lot in this here posting. So you know what rules? I'll tell you, spelling bananas in your song. No wait that sucks too. But I love that song. So you know what really rules? Raisin Bran.